Get you all three into the boxtree. Malvolio’s coming down this walk. Observe him, for the love of mockery, for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him.
Here comes the little villain. How now, my metal of India?
Now is thewoodcocknear the gin.
O, peace! And the spirit of humors intimate reading aloud to him
What employment have we here?
This wins him, liver and all.
This is my lady’s hand. (reads) “To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes”—Her very phrases
BABUR
A fustian riddle!
“I may command where I adore, But silence, like a Lucrece knife, With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore; M.O.A.I. doth sway my life.”
Did not I say he would work it out? The cur is excellent at faults
“I may command where I adore.” Why, she may command me. I serve her, she is my lady. 'M' Malvolio! 'M'! why, that begins my name!
ANFAAL
And 'O' shall end, I hope.
Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry 'O'!
“M- But than there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation: 'A' should follow but 'O' does.